


King of Hearts

by Blueskullcandy



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: M/M, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Saiouma Exchange 2018, for #55, hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, sorry its late my dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 01:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15450393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueskullcandy/pseuds/Blueskullcandy
Summary: For the first time, the boy’s eyes remained locked with Shuichi’s. He was trembling, his mouth left hanging open to explain himself, but no words escaped. His purple eyes bored into Shuichi, his scared expression only emphasized by the bags under his eyes and a fading green bruise that ghosted over his left cheek.As tears leaked out of the other’s eyes, Shuichi couldn't help but think that he looked hopelessly beautiful. Or beautifully hopeless.He wasn't exactly sure which yet, but he knew he wanted to be there to find out.





	King of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> This is for recipient number 55 of the Saiouma exchange. Sorry its a little late, but once I got rolling with this idea I just couldn't stop writing!

Shuichi walked down the street with his backpack thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, feet lazily kicking at rocks that crossed his path as he sifted through the latest posts on the Danganronpa forum.

Another day, another detention for writing theories instead of paying attention to the teacher.

Honestly, at this point, Shuichi wasn't sure who his teacher was punishing with all these unnecessary after school hold ups. The older man seemed to dread the detentions more than Shuichi himself did, probably eager to get home to his whore of a wife and bitch of a daughter. 

Shuichi didn't share his sentiment. His own parents avoided him as much as possible, happy to just leave him to his own apartment while they lived in one just below him.

Not that he was complaining. Without his parents breathing down his neck, Shuichi could stay up as late as he liked chatting or marathoning past seasons without worrying that his giggles and shouts of excitement would wake anyone up.

Shuichi clicked his tongue as he came to then end of the feed. Typical. In the months following a season’s finale, the discussions surrounding Danganronpa would die down to near nothing, driving Shuichi up the wall with his need to theorize and  _ talk  _ about the show.

Honestly, the seasonal fans really pissed him off. Why where they only interested in Danganronpa when it was airing? Shuichi himself thoroughly enjoyed the twists and turns of watching the show in real time, constantly trying to stay one step ahead of the mastermind. 

But where Shuichi really though Danganronpa could strut its stuff was after the seasons themselves ended. Looking at character interactions with the whole season in mind reminded Shuichi just how brilliant the writers of the show were. Every line shared between characters could spiral into a deep friendship or inspire the most brutal of murders. Any word could foreshadow the cruelest of executions.

Shuichi rubbed his sleeve beneath his chin, mopping away the drool that had started to drip before shaking his head. He really shouldn't think about those things while out in public. 

People tended to get freaked out by his glazed over eyes and elated smile.

Ignoring the frantic buzzing of past and potential executions fluttering in his brain, Shuichi continuing to walk down the slowly darkening streets.

With no Danganronpa feed to look at while he walked the final stretch to his apartment, Shuichi glanced up at the street. There was a faded neon sign a little bit farther down advertising for ramen. To the right were mostly small shops, only useful for a bauble or shitty cigarettes. 

Shuichi idly realized that the street looked a little bit unfamiliar but didn't really mind. He just wasn't used to looking up from his phone on this part of the walk, usually letting his muscle memory guide him to the entrance to his building with little care for where he actually was. It wasn't like any of it mattered anyway. All that mattered was that they lead him home in time to rewatch his favorite episodes and plan for the future. His future. 

A little farther down the path, the shops faded into an open lot where a tiny park sat, though Shuichi thought the word park might be a bit too generous as he wandered past. It was more of an empty lot with one unsteady looking metal slide and four picnic tables that might have been painted green at some point.

The usually deserted lot held one occupant: A boy hunched over one of the tables, fiddling with something in his lap.

Something about the other boy made Shuichi pause. He had never seen the other teen before, his school uniform crisp and unfamiliar. The boy hunched in on himself tighter, as though he felt Shuichi’s eyes on him, purple hair completely obscuring his face. His hands moved faster in his lap.

Shuchi found his legs taking him into the park before his mind could even think to stop them. Despite the fact that this little detour would cut into his writing and watching time, he didn’t mind. 

In fact, Shuichi felt giddiness bubble up in his chest and a too wide smile crack across his face as he moved closer. His instincts were telling him this boy was important. His detective instincts. 

And Shuichi would be damned if he ignored everything he hoped to become one day. 

His footsteps shifting the gravel gave Shuichi away as he approached the purple haired teen.

The boy’s head whipped upwards, purple eyes the size of dinner plates as he watched Shuichi approach. His eyes flashed from Shuichi’s face back down to his lap and then back up again. 

He looked caught between desperately wanting to flee and wanting to protect himself from the blow that was surely headed his way.

As the other boy continued to have his own internal crisis, Shuichi gave him another once over. 

The purple haired boy was incredibly small in stature and too thin and pale to be considered healthy, though the want-to-be detective figured he shouldn't throw stones if he lived in a glass house. His hair was chopped around his shoulders, dark with streaks of purple and frizzed up in a frantic way. Pale fingers clutched desperately at the pile of cards resting in his lap as though he was afraid Shuichi was going to steal them.

“What are you doing?” Shuichi asked, invading the other teen’s space as he leaned over the table to get a better look at the deck of cards.

Purple eyes flicked up to look at Shuichi for a split second before they returned down to look at his lap where he was hurriedly shuffling the cards back into an old, beaten up card holder.

“N-nothing,” he whispered, voice shaky and weak  “I was just leaving. You can take the table.”

“You weren't playing solitaire,” Shuichi cut in as he gripped the other boy’s shoulder to stop him from leaving.

“So what were you playing?”

For the first time, the boy’s eyes remained locked with Shuichi’s. He was trembling, his mouth left hanging open to explain himself, but no words escaped. His purple eyes bored into Shuichi, his scared expression only emphasized by the bags under his eyes and a fading green bruise that ghosted over his left cheek.

As tears leaked out of the other’s eyes, Shuichi couldn't help but think that he looked hopelessly beautiful. Or beautifully hopeless. He wasn't exactly sure which yet, but he knew he wanted to be there to find out.

Shuichi let his grip on the boy’s shoulder losen, and tried to smile reassuringly. Based on the other’s expression, it didn't work.

“I’m Shuichi Saihara,” Shuichi said, finally breaking the other from his frozen state.

The purple haired boy hurriedly finished stuffing the cards back into their holder, before throwing everything into his checkered shoulder bag.

“I’m, uh, Kokichi Ouma,” the other boy said, his back to Shuichi.

“Nice to meet you Kokichi. I hope we can talk more later.”

Kokichi shrugged noncommittally as he began to walk quickly away from the park, not daring to spare Shuichi a backwards glance.

Shuichi smiled despite himself as he turned to finally finish his walk home.

Yes. They would be talking more.

* * *

 

From that day on, Shuichi dragged himself away from his forums for the precious few minutes it took to walk past the park every afternoon, waiting for another appearance of Kokichi Ouma.

After the first few days, Shuichi began to worry that the other was just a figment of his overactive imagination, until he finally saw the boy again, in the same position he last found him in: sitting at a bench, hunched over and concentrating on the cards that were probably in his lap.

Shuichi found himself nearly skipping toward the other boy as he entered the park.

“Hello Kokichi!” Shuichi greeted enthusiastically.

Kokichi glanced up from his cards, eyes frantic until he seemingly recognized Shuichi. 

“Hey,” he replied, hands shuffling the cards in his lap.

Shuichi took that as a sign of acceptance and sat himself on the bench so he could watch Kokichi hands as they skittered across the deck.

After a few seconds of watching him cut the deck, shuffle through the cards, flip one over and then repeat, Shuichi felt he could break the silence.

“So, do you have any interests? I mean, other than cards.”

Kokichi paused in his shuffling, eyes flicking around again, before he resumed his efforts. Shuichi figured it was a nervous tick.

“I-I like reading,” he finally replied, hunching into himself after he spoke, as though to protect himself. After a few seconds, he uncurled and looked back up at Shuichi.

“And chess too, I guess.”

“Reading, playing cards, and chess? You must really like Through the Looking Glass.”

Kokichi paused again, hands stilling in the middle of cutting the deck. He looked up at Shuichi, a small smile lighting up his entire face as he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice confident for the first time Shuichi had ever heard. “I love those books.”

Shuichi smiled back, though Kokichi had already continued with his shuffling. The boys sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Shuichi broke it with the question he had actually wanted to ask.

“So, how do you feel about Danganronpa?”

Kokichi quirked a brow, but didn't look up as he flipped a card face up and then started his whole process over again.

“I don't hate it,” he finally managed. “Not that it’s a bad show!” he rectified, voice returning to the nervous quivering it usually took on. 

“I just,” he paused again, face scrunched up as if he was looking for the correct word. The King of Hearts lay face up in his lap.

“I guess I just don't get it,” he finished, flipping the king over and starting again.

Shuichi felt a small flash of agitation bubble up in his stomach at the response, but he squashed it down. No need to scare Kokichi away with his over enthusiasm. 

“It is a somewhat controversial show,” Shuichi conceded. 

“But!” he chirped as he hopped off the table top, startling Kokichi into dropping his cards. Shuichi grabbed the smaller boys shoulders, forcing frightened purple to look into swirling, faded gold.

“The motif of Hope vs Despair really is uplifting, I think, in the end. Even if one never really beats the other. I think it put every experience of life into perspective. You’ll always have a bit of both, you know?”

“Not to mention the characters! Oh, they’re all just written so well,” Shuichi gushed, voice picking up speed and volume as he stared, unblinking into Kokichi’s beautifully scared face. Man, he wasn't sure if Kokichi looked better with a smile or with his eyes blown out wide like this? Decisions, decisions.

“Each character, with their own fleshed out backstories and personalities and motivations! Their interactions are so meaningful and poignant and fucking full of foreshadowing. The writers really know what they're doing.”

“And don't even get me started on murders!” Shuichi vaguely knew he was shouting into Kokichi’s face, but he couldn't help it. 

“Each murder perfectly crafted to be cruel and heart wrenching but also gratifying after aaaall the waiting! When someone finally snaps after days of waiting around and then the protagonist find the body to finally start the investigation!”

Shuichi could feel drool dripping down his chin as he continued.

“And then each investigation ends with the cherry on top: the execution! So savage but deserved and always absolutely perfe-”

Shuichi’s face was whipped to the side with the force of the blow. He raised his hand to his stinging cheek, feeling the heat from his abused skin. Before turning his face downward to look at his assailant.

Kokichi looked horrified. Tears streaked his cheeks as his mouth opened and closed over and over again. He held his hand cradled against his chest protectively as he used his other hand to gently shove the shell shocked fanboy away. 

Shuichi watched as Kokichi turned away from him sharply to collect his backpack and his cards that had fallen on the ground in his shock. Shoulders hunched over and head lowered, Kokichi took a few steps away before stopping. 

“I’ll see you later,” he muttered before shuffling away. 

Despite his stinging, red cheek, Shuichi smiled after him. 

 

* * *

 

“What's your favorite type of Danganronpa character?” Shuichi asked as he swung his legs back and forth beneath the table. 

Their after school meetings were becoming more frequent despite Shuichi’s outburst. Shuichi got the distinct impression that Kokichi was doing it to avoid wherever he got his occasional bruises from more than to see him, but that didn't really bug Shuichi. 

A somewhat hesitant conversation partner was still a conversation partner, after all. 

“You already know my favorites,” Shuichi continued when the other boy didn't respond. 

“Detectives are so important to the show, both plot wise and within the parameters set by the game. The Detective establishes credibility to everyone's argument and helps to drive the investigation and the class trial.”

The corner of Shuichi’s mouth turned upward and he turned to look at the top of Kokichi’s head. 

“Despite their best efforts, the only reason the game can operate the way it does is because of them. Without someone smart like them, the game would fall apart at the seems.”

Kokichi hummed lightly in acknowledgment, eyes never leaving the cards in his hands as he continued his cycle. 

“But,” Shuichi said, voice picking up speed as he hopped off the tabletop and began pacing. 

“The writers have never taken advantage of how devastating it would be for the detective to truly betray everyone. To see the one person who you thought would help all of you till the end use their investigative prowess to commit an unsolvable murder.”

Shuichi wrapped his arms around himself, afraid his excited shaking would split him apart if he didn't physically hold himself together. 

“I’ll change that,” Shuichi said resolutely. “I’ll be the first ever detective to commit a murder on the show.”

“If I get away with it, great. If not-”and here Shuichi felt himself shudder with delight as his smile turned from elated to vicious. All teeth and no lips. 

“Even better. My execution will be burned into Danganronpa history forever. No one will ever forget me!”

Shuichi placed a hand on his chest, willing his heaving chest to calm down and his heart to slow its pace after his speech. Kokichi had looked up somewhere in the middle of the fanboy’s rant and was staring at him, eyes wide with what could be awe or maybe disgust.

Silence reigned between them as Shuichi finally returned to his seat with his breathing somewhat in control. Kokichi had returned to his cards, but his eyebrows remained furrowed.

“I like the comic relief sidekicks,” Kokich muttered eventually, the Jack of Diamonds held in his left hand before he flipped it over and returned the card to oblivion.

Shuichi turned to stare at his companion, confusion written all over his face.

“Why? They’re all idiots.”

Kokichi winced at the dismissive words.

“Yeah, I guess,” he admitted. 

The quiet shuffling of cards stopped as he looked up.

“But I like how they can make the others smile, even when things seem hopeless.”

Kokichi smiled. It was strained and cracked around the edges thanks to his split lip. But his eyes were alight with something Shuichi couldn't put a finger on. He looked happy.

Kokichi held a card face down close to the center of his chest.

“I want to be able to make people laugh in the face of despair.”

 

* * *

 

“You should really find a different route home if they can keep cornering you like this,” Shuichi said as he finished applying bandages to Kokichi hands.

The boy in question merely shrugged, a wry smile touching his lips as he continued to apply pressure to an ice pack pressed to his left eye.

Shuichi sighed as he packed away the first aid supplies back into his backpack. He had begun carrying them after the first few times Kokichi showed up to the park with blood dripping down his face.

Objectively, Shuchi though Kokichi looked beautiful with the little rivets of red dripping all over him. But practically, he also knew that if Kokichi didn't take care of them he could get an infection. And based on the state of his uniform and how skinny the other boy was, Shuichi was pretty damn sure that if the other got sick, he wouldn't ever go to a hospital.

With his hands now properly bandaged, Kokichi dug through his backpack before he pulled out his pack of cards and began his ritual. Shuichi pulled out his phone and began looking through the information on the upcoming season 53.

His season.

“You’re really going to do it then?” Kokichi said, eyes glued to the cards in his hands. They  were not moving.

“Yes. I picked up an application yesterday. I’m going to blow those interviewers away with all the stuff I’ve thought up! I hope they like the ex-”

“The execution, I know,” Kokichi cuts him off.

The shuffling of cards resumes.

 

* * *

  
  


Breaths wheezed in and out of Shuichi’s mouth as he ran down the street.

Today was the day. Not even his piece of shit tacher could ruin it for him by giving him another after school detention. 

Today was the day he was going to submit his application and officially begin his journey toward becoming a character in Danganronpa season 53. Toward becoming a legend.

But before that, he needed to see Kokichi. 

Shuichi skidded slightly as he came to a stop before the entrance to the park. Kokichi was already sitting at their table.

As Shuichi drew closer to the other, he immediately noticed something was off. 

Kokichi sat straight on the picnic table’s bench, back erect and head held high. His cards were laid out on the table in front of him instead of in his lap, and he wasn't touching them. He was just sitting there, staring at them. Waiting.

“Hey,” Shuichi started as he approached the table. Kokichi glanced up, before returning his gaze to the table.

“You put your application in today, right?” he asks.

“Yeah. Technically the application window is all this week but,” Shuichi shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to put mine in on the first day. So they know how much I want it.”

Kokichi nodded.

“They’ll choose you,” he said with a definite nod. “You’ve got everything their looking for.”

The purple haired boy smiled lightly as he added, “And probably more.”

Shuichi returned the other’s soft smile with a wide grin of his own.

“Thanks, Kokichi,” he said sincerely as he took a seat, sitting opposite of Kokichi and his cards.

Kokichi hummed in acknowledgement before letting silence envelope them again. Usually their silence was filled with the soft swish of the cards brushing against one another and the soft tap of Shuichi's thumbs against his phone, but now everything felt so stilted. So dead.

Kokichi took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth before he looked upward.

His mouth was set in a hard line and his eyes shone with a determined look. He reached out and brushed his hands against the deck of cards. 

Using one hand, he brushed away a majority of the deck, and with the other, he spread out the remaining fourteen cards into two lines of seven in front of Shuichi.

“The day we met,” he began, “you asked me what I was playing.”

Shuichi nodded mutley. 

“The thing is, I wasn't playing a game at all. With the fourteen face cards of any deck of playing cards, you can do a sort of tarot card reading.”

Kokichi’s face flushed a light shade of pink as he continued his explanation.

“My… friends taught me how to do it before they went away. I usually just do it to keep my hands busy but…” he trailed off as he looked back upr from the cards to Shuichi’s face.

“I wanted to do a reading for you. Before you put in the application.”

Shuichi felt himself smile as he nodded emphatically.

“That sounds great! What do I do?”

“Well, first I want you to get rid of seven cards.”

Shuichi half nodded as he looked down at the two rows of seven cards in front of him. After a few seconds he brushed the seven cards in the top row to the side.

“Okay. Now get rid of three cards,” Kokichi instructed.

Shuichi grabbed the first, middle, and last cards in the line of seven and pushed them into the discard pile.

Kokichi used two fingers to push the remain four cards together into a continuous line with no gaps.

“Now get rid of two cards.”

Shuichi pushed away the two on the left.

“Now chose one and flip it over.”

Shuichi let his hand hover over both cards, before selecting the one on the right and flipping it over.

The King of Hearts.

Kokichi took a short, sharp breath as he looked between the card and Shuichi’s face.

“The King of Hearts,” he said, voice shaking with an unreadable emotion. He cleared his throat and looked into Shuichi’s eyes, determined purple meeting confused faded gold.

“The King of Hearts is known for its unique nature,” he started as he continued to stare at Shuichi’s face. 

“Unlike all of the other kings in the deck, the King of Hearts doesn't have a mustache, making him stand out from the others as different.”

Shuichi nodded with a smile. So he was unique and would stand out during the show. Exactly what he wanted.

“But!” Kokichi cut in, his voice now urgent and low, as though he was begging for Shuichi’s attention.

“He is also unique for another reason. Unlike the other kings who wield weapons in front of themselves, the King of Hearts can be seen plunging his sword into the side of his own head.”

“Which is why the King of Hearts is nicknamed the Suicide King,” Kokichi finished with a low voice.

Shuichi looked from the card to Kokichi’s grim face and back again. Something deep inside him snapped, filling his stomach with a bubbling, boiling, all encompassing glee.

“It’s perfect,” Shuichi whispered.

“What?”

“I said it’s perfect!” Shuichi exclaimed as he bounced out of his seat.

“A king who is unique and causes his own death? It’s like a dream come true! It’s everything I could hope for in the game!”

Kokichi opened his mouth to refute, but couldn't get the words out past the horror of having to imagine Shuichi’s death clawing at his throat. 

Before Kokichi could react, Shuichi climbed over the side of the table, knocking cards flying as he reached across the wooden top and pulled Kokichi into a hug, ignoring the other boy’s shocked face.

“Thank you, Kokichi,” he whispered as he pulled away just enough to press his forehead against Kokichi’s own.

God he loved the look of horror in his eyes. The way his pupils shrunk to little dots in a sea of insurmountable purple distress. The way his mouth floundered for something to say even as the air refused to leave his lungs.

Shuichi could wring his pristine neck right here and now, adding even more purple to his sickly pale skin.

Instead, Shuichi curled his hand around the back of Kokichi’s neck and brought him forward, mashing their lips together. 

It was a short intense kiss, filled with more teeth than lip, but Shuichi wouldn't change it for the world as the tang of metal hit his tongue. Oops. Oh well.

He pulled away abruptly, leaving a shell shocked Kokichi in his wake as he surged forward to grab his backpack off the ground. He ran to the gate, pausing to look over his shoulder only for a split second to yell, “Make sure to watch me in season 53!” before he was gone.

Kokichi sat for a few seconds, brain still trying to process what had just happened.

Belatedly, he brought his hand up to his mouth, feeling the swollen, broken skin and residual warmth left over from the kiss. 

Slowly, he began to pick up his cards and place them back into the holder, until only two remained on the table top.

Kokichi turned away from them and placed the rest of the cards into his backpack, next to a folded up, but completed application.

“See you later,” Kokichi said to no one as he shuffled away from the park, leaving the King of Hearts and the Joker alone on the bench for the winds to do with as they pleased.


End file.
